


On the Dotted Line

by brookebond



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 [19]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Desperate Eames, Devil!Arthur, M/M, making deals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Eames is pretty desperate so he does the last thing he thinks could ever possibly work.





	On the Dotted Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkys_creature_feature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkys_creature_feature/gifts), [jambees221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambees221b/gifts), [swtalmnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/gifts), [marourin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marourin/gifts), [FiaMac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiaMac/gifts).



> Written for the Dominance & submission square on my Kink/Trope Bingo Card.
> 
> This is gifted to all the people from Slack that helped me or cheered me on in some way.  
> Special thank you to amarulasmile for doing a quick beta of this.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

When Nikolai Stepanov said someone was dead, that person always turned up in the morgue within a few days. Since Eames had pissed Nikolai off, he had run out of options. There was one thing left to do and, because he had nothing left to lose, digging a hole and burying a box of treasured items seemed like a great idea.

Yusuf had once mentioned how he had managed to pass all of his college courses and not get arrested for selling drugs because of some deal he had made. At the time, Eames had thought summoning a demon had been a joke, but now, with dirt covering his hands and knees, he desperately hoped Yusuf had been telling the truth.

“If something could happen right now, I’d stop feeling like a right twat,” Eames muttered as he stood, brushing his pants off and sighing, as he knew they were stained. He was going to have to head back into the city looking like he’d given a blowjob in a dirty alley. Though, it wasn’t like it would be the first time.

A faint pop and hiss startled Eames, sending him flying back into a rock as he turned, spotting a face amidst a swirl of smoke. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he yelled, clutching at the rock as though it was going to help him in some way.

“Not quite,” the apparition muttered, raising a brow as the smoke dissipated.

Apparently Yusuf had been telling the truth all along.

“Well… I suppose not.” There was no saving himself from his outburst when the person appeared, but Eames was going to do his damnedest to recover some sort of control over the situation. It was most likely a futile effort, but there was no reason not to give it a shot.

With the smoke clearing, Eames got a good look at the person that had appeared; dark hair, a red suit that looked dangerously like velvet, a smirk with a dimple denting one cheek, and the darkest eyes Eames had ever seen on a person.

He swallowed hard and stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to hide the slight tremble that had started when the person had first spoken.

“Any second now, you’re going to tell me what it is you called me here for,” they drawled.

Eames cleared his throat, standing a little straighter as he attempted to look more confident. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off someone he wanted help from. The only real problem was figuring out how to phrase what he needed. He had agonised over the wording for hours—since Nikolai had essentially put a hit on him—and hadn’t been able to come up with anything that didn’t make him sound like a sullen child.

“I need to disappear,” he finally said, noting the way the man in the red suit adjusted his jacket, shifting in a way that clearly telegraphed annoyance and impatience.

“Why?”

“Someone wants me dead,” Eames replied with a shrug as though it was something that happened to everyone. He was attempting to remain calm about the whole thing, even though he had summoned a demon to solve his problems in a fit of desperation. No one else needed to know that, though. There wasn’t a single person that might believe him, except for Yusuf, and Eames wasn’t going to tell Yusuf anything about this stranger.

“And you want me to do… what?”

“Well, I hear your sort help people out.” When Yusuf had mentioned the details of what had happened, Eames had tuned out. He had been convinced that Yusuf had been having a bad trip and so he had focused on something else. Now, he was starting to regret his tendency to ignore everything Yusuf prattled on about.

“For a price,” the man in the red suit replied, a smirk tipping the corners of his mouth up.

Eames was in so much trouble.

“Yes,” he hedged. “What do you want?” He was trying to play it cool, making it seem as though he wasn’t warming up to the idea that he was more than willing to give this guy anything to get what he needed. Eames was also trying to pretend that he wouldn’t mind if he actually ended up getting nothing out of the evening that wasn’t some sort of sexual favour.

The guy was a walking hard on and there was no way Eames could resist. If he ended up dead tomorrow, at least he was going to have one hell of a final night on Earth.

“What’s your name?”

“Eames.” There wasn’t much point in lying about his name. If he managed to make a deal with this guy, his full name was going to come out anyway.

“Just because I like you, I’ll give you three options.”

“Is that how it’s normally done?” Eames asked, some sense of self-preservation finally kicking in as he wracked his brain for any recollection of what Yusuf had told him.

“Don’t mind how things are normally done,” he said and waved a hand vaguely.

“You’re not like the others.”

“You’ve met other demons?”

“Well… no…”

“Then what could you possibly know about us?”

“I’ve heard things.”

“Rumours and hearsay.”

“The summoning worked,” Eames unhelpfully pointed out.

A small laugh filtered over to Eames, warming him. Entertaining this guy had to help his chances at getting a better deal. Plus, he had to admit that he actually rather enjoyed the warmth of the voice. It was twisting his insides in the most delicious way.

“Your choices: I can get rid of the people that want you dead—”

“Rid of how?” Eames frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked that sound of that.

“Kill them,” he responded as casual as if he was commenting on the weather.

Time stood still, a quiet hum filling Eames’ head.

_ Kill them. _

When he had buried that box, he hadn’t expected it to work so he hadn’t actually thought the whole thing through. But now that a demon was standing in front of him, offering to kill people, Eames wondered if he had just made the biggest mistake of his whole life.

“Um… well…” Eames floundered, his mind whirring as he mumbled incoherently.

“Or were you after something a little more mundane? Maybe you’d prefer a new face? Or to go somewhere warmer?”

Eames blinked, struggling to keep up with the sudden change. His thoughts were still stuck on the murder that had been offered. Leaving the city was nothing when Nikolai was the most influential man in the London underbelly. As far as Eames knew, Nikolai had connections throughout most of the world. There was every chance he wouldn’t be safe anywhere. Not even Timbuktu.

“I want them dead,” Eames announced, his mouth running faster than his brain.

“You’re sure?”

Eames nodded, realising that he actually did want Nikolai dead. He wanted the whole lot of them dead.

“That’s pretty steep.”

“You offered.”

“That I did,” the guy replied, flashing a dimple again as he smirked like he could read Eames’ every thought. It was unnerving and ridiculously attractive at the same time.

“What do I owe you?”

“Your soul.”

Eames choked down a gasp, barely containing his shock at the response. “R-right, okay… and what do I need to do now?” He rolled his shoulders, attempting to look more composed than he was feeling. From the look on the guy’s face, Eames assumed he was failing miserably.

“Now you sign the contract.”

“Where is it?”

The demon snapped his fingers, a scroll of paper appear in his hand with a small trail of smoke leading to the night sky.

“Holy shit,” Eames exclaimed, his eyes widening at the showy action. He watched as the demon reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pen, holding it and the scroll out to Eames with barely a gesture.

Eames took them both and started reading the scroll, turning his back on the demon without a second thought. He didn’t have much experience with contracts—really everything he did was a verbal contract—so all he saw in front of him was a swirl of words that he understood separately. Together, none of it made much sense. Though, the phrase “ten years” did stand out a bit more than anything else.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing and swivelling back to face the demon.

“Hmm? Oh, standard fare. You’ll have ten years of peace until we collect.”

Ten years seemed like a lifetime compared to what he was facing if he returned to London without a deal.

“All I have to do is sign this and you’ll get rid of Nikolai?” Eames asked, pen hovering over the line with his name underneath.

“There is something I could offer to make the deal a little sweeter,” the demon replied, his smirk seeming like it was a permanent fixture on his face.

Eames paused halfway through signing his name. “Something else?”

“Sign it, then we can discuss this something else.”

Eames should have known better, should have been warier of this strange demon in the red velvet suit, but all he could think was that he would finally be free of Nikolai and that was what made him finish his signature with a small flourish before passing the contract and pen back.

“So you’ll kill them for me now?”

“What? You wanna watch or something?”

“No… God no…” Eames breathed, his throat constricting at just the thought.

“God has nothing to do with this,” the demon growled.

“Touchy subject?” Eames guessed, trying to put himself back on even ground.

“You have no idea.”

Eames smiled tightly, his thoughts still caught up in watching Nikolai die in bizarre, unexplainable ways. He should have taken one of the other options. Running off to Timbuktu was looking like a better option the longer he thought about it. There wasn’t any changing it now, though. The contract had disappeared as soon as he’d handed it over.

“On your knees.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Let’s just make this easy, alright?” It was phrased as a question but Eames could hear—almost feel—the command hidden beneath it.

“Look, mate, I get that we made a deal and all but how is me getting on my knees going to help?” Eames asked, fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm on his thigh. It was a pitiful cover for the arousal that had started to build at the domineering tone. The thought of giving a blowjob while he was still fully dressed in that red velvet suit was almost entirely too much for Eames to resist, even if it meant the stains on his knees would get worse.

“We still need to seal the deal, Eames,” the demon replied with a smile.

“I already signed the contract,” he pointed out. “Can’t we just shake on it?”

“Stop wasting my time and get on your knees.”

Eames dropped to his knees without further argument. He wasn’t willing to piss this guy off. He still needed Nikolai taken care of. Whatever this demon wanted, Eames was going to give it to him.

“Hands behind your back.”

Eames hurried to follow the order, clasping his hands behind his back without a moment's hesitation.

“Close your eyes.”

He chanced a look up, noticing the demon’s eyes were somehow darker than they had been when he’d first arrived. A thrill shot through him and Eames closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in preparation for what was about to come.

Eames could only make out the barest whisper of dirt shifting, telling him that he was being circled, appraised. He tried to contain the shiver, but he hoped it seemed like he was only cold instead of slightly aroused.

“Nice doing business with you,” a low voice rumbled, lips brushing his ear before a gentle push had him toppling over, hands reaching out to catch himself.

He turned around, ready to berate the guy for the dick move but found he was alone. There wasn’t a single hint that anyone else had been there with Eames and he wondered if the whole thing had been a bad trip.

“Nikolai had better be dead when I get back,” he muttered as he stood, brushing himself off. It was in vain, really. His trousers were already stained and a little extra dirt wasn’t going to make much of a difference. His nosy neighbour was still going to think he had been galavanting in alleys with strange men.

Eames sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he meandered back to his car. There was a soft crinkle of something. There hadn’t been anything but keys in his pocket earlier. Frowning, he pulled his hand out, staring at the small crumpled piece of paper.

_ Tomorrow. 10pm. Piccadilly Circus. _

It was the same neat print as had been on the contract and didn’t offer any other details. He didn’t need to be explicitly told to know who it was from.

“Bastard,” he muttered despite a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

Tomorrow, he was going to be early.


End file.
